


Temptation

by penguingal, Schnaucl (Onetrackmind)



Series: Comfort in Strange Places [1]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Incest, M/M, comment porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-01
Updated: 2005-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguingal/pseuds/penguingal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onetrackmind/pseuds/Schnaucl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a rough case Don finally gives into temptation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation

It had been nearly a week and a half since Charlie had last seen Don. Charlie had been focusing on a new and exciting math problem while Don had been busy working on a new case. He hadn't asked for Charlie's help and Charlie didn't think anything of it. As much as he enjoyed working with Don, he couldn't provide help in every case and while he was pretty sure there were times when Don liked working with him, too, he was also pretty sure that there were times when Don felt a need to solve something without his help.  
  
Charlie sprawled on the couch, nose happily buried in the latest math journal. He glanced up when he heard the front door open. His eyes widened slightly. Don looked--terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes and he held himself stiffly, as if he were standing upright only through sheer force of will. If Dad hadn't been nagging him to come over for dinner as soon as his case was finished he'd probably be at his apartment, collapsed in his bed. "Hey," Charlie said quietly.  
  
Don barely held himself together as he made his way up the front walk and through the door. The last week and a half had been hell, a young woman carjacked and kidnapped on her way home from work. Her car had been used as a get away from a violent robbery in which a store owner and his wife had been killed and through it all, the husband and her kids had been looking at him to make their family whole again. He'd been too late. They found her raped and murdered, her body dumped in a warehouse near where they tracked the car and Don had beat himself up for hours long before he saw the reproach and disappointment and grief in the husband's eyes.  
  
Now even Charlie's mild greeting seemed to hold a note of accusation to it and Don had to fight not to flinch. He knew it was just his bruised sense of honor making him think that. "Hey," Don replied, sinking painfully into one of the chairs and putting his head in his hands.  
  
Charlie studied him in silence for a moment. He was never quite sure what to do in this situation. He wanted to help, wanted to ease Don's pain, but sometimes even the offer seemed to make things worse. Made Don feel worse or made him angry and Charlie was still trying to figure out if there was a way to predict how his offer would be received.   
  
He got up from the couch and retrieved a cold beer from the fridge. After removing the cap he went back into the family room and pressed the bottle against Don's arm. "Dad had to run to the store to pick up a few things."  
  
The sudden cold against his arm made him flinch and he looked up apologetically into Charlie's eyes. He nodded as he accepted the bottle from him, taking a long swig. "Thanks, buddy," he whispered, his eyes at least grateful even if he couldn't make his voice reflect it. He was too raw, too broken at the moment to do much other than stew. It would pass; it always did.  
  
Lapsing into silence again, Don leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt.  
  
Charlie took a seat at the end of the couch nearest Don. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked finally.  
  
Don shook his head almost regretfully. "I wish there was," he said, eyes fixed on his hands wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle. It was cold comfort knowing that the guys who did this would rot for a good long time before getting a needle shoved in their veins. It wouldn't bring her back.  
  
"You said Dad had to run out?" Don's voice was distant, almost like he was just becoming aware of where he really was. Charlie nodded. "I'm going to go take a shower."  
  
He placed the bottle carefully on the table, a man moving mostly on autopilot and stood, heading for the stairs.  
  
Charlie bit his lip and watched his brother move up the stairs. He looked--fragile. It was always deeply disconcerting to see his strong older brother show any sign of vulnerability. And maybe that was the problem.   
  
He waited for a few minutes before following Don up the stairs, then sat cross-legged outside the bathroom door. Don was probably fine, but Charlie wanted to be there in case he'd finally reached the limits of his physical endurance.  
  
The hot water sliced down his skin and Don leaned on the tile, letting it wash over him. He stood under the stream, the water pounding his skin, the heat making it look as red and raw as he felt. He'd done all he could. He knew that. But there were some cases that you just carried with you, and when he closed his eyes, he still saw her face, hair matted with blood. The water started to run cold and Don shook himself, shampooing and scrubbing himself down quickly. He smelled better now at least.   
  
Stepping out, he dried off quickly, wrapping the towel around his hips. He ran his hand through the condensation on the mirror so he could look at himself. God, he looked like he'd been through hell. Exhausted as he was, he knew that his sleep would be plagued with dreams of two little kids growing up without their mommy. He felt a little more human now at least--the healing powers of a good shower--and he ran his hands through his hair quickly, making it stand on end. His clothes were in his room. The steam billowed out into the hallway when he opened the door and he nearly tripped over Charlie.  
  
"Sorry," Charlie said quietly. He stood awkwardly, his gaze flickering from Don's eyes to his bare chest to the floor. "I--I wanted to make sure you were okay."  
  
He reached out, putting a hand on Charlie's shoulder, his fingers touching the bare skin above his collar. "I'll be okay, buddy. Really."  
  
Don took a deep breath and headed down the short hallway, talking over his shoulder. "A good meal, some sleep and I'll be right as rain." His voice was unnaturally hearty and it sounded wrong even to his own ears.  
  
Charlie closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do right now was fight with Don. But it was abundantly clear that Don was either fooling himself or full of shit.  
  
He opened his eyes and followed Don down the hall, feeling more like a tag-a-long little brother than he had in a long while. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Don gritted his teeth, trying to get a hold of his temper, knowing that getting angry with Charlie wasn't going to help. In fact, he'd just feel much worse later. And it wasn't really Charlie that he was angry with, anyway. In fact, he was angry with just about everyone _except_ Charlie.  
  
"What do you want me to tell you, Charlie?" Don ground out. "You want to hear how we found a 28-year old mother of two on the concrete floor of a warehouse with most of the back of her skull missing. How she had abrasions on her wrists and ankles from being tied down. About exactly where we found scratches on her legs. Or maybe you'd like me to tell you about the store owner whose only crime was being old and not able to open the cash register fast enough. Or his wife who couldn't hold the scream back when they SHOT HIM in the heart so they shot her, too!" His voice rose steadily until he was shouting. "Or maybe you want to hear about how I was TOO LATE to save them! Is that it? Is that what you want to hear?"  
  
Don had advanced on Charlie slowly, grabbing him by the shoulders and propelling him against the wall of his room. "Because that's the best part, Charlie. NONE of that would have happened if... if I'd been faster, stronger, smarter. If..." His voice broke suddenly and he bit his lip. Disgusted with himself, he turned away, unable to even look his own brother in the eyes.  
  
Charlie was trembling, holding himself tightly. Don was rarely physically rough with him, and when he was he was usually at the breaking point. He had to pull himself together, stop shaking. Even when Don shoved him around he'd never actually hurt him.   
  
He took a deep breath and hesitantly put his hand on Don's shoulder. Even he could feel the painful tension in his brother's frame. "It's not your fault," he said quietly, his voice firm. "You didn't-- _look at me_ ," he commanded. "You did _not_ kill those people."  
  
Charlie's hand was warm on his cooling skin. Don wanted to flinch away, even gentle contact almost too much for him to handle, but he held his ground. He turned his head slightly at the commanding tone in Charlie's voice, but he couldn't turn around.  
  
"Try telling that to her husband, or to those two little kids," he said quietly. "I failed them, Charlie."  
  
Don crumpled, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. "And no matter how hard I try, whenever I close my eyes, I see her face."  
  
He rubbed his hands forcefully along his face, and he looked up at last, actually seeing Charlie for maybe the first time. His arms were wrapped around him tightly and he looked small and confused. Don took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, buddy. Did I hurt you?"  
  
"No," he said quietly. He moved across the room and joined Don on the edge of the bed. "I'm okay." He put his arm around Don, wishing he knew how to take away Don's pain, how to make him feel strong again instead of fragile.   
  
"You didn't fail them, Don. I know you well enough to know you did everything in your power, everything humanly possible. I know you worked as fast and as hard and as brilliantly as anyone could. But--you can't control everything and some things take time. Processing forensic evidence takes time and you can't speed it up just because you want to or--or even because it's needed. You did everything you could, Don."  
  
"I want to believe that, Charlie... I really do..." he shook his head not knowing what else to say.   
  
Charlie's arm around his shoulders was comfortable, and Don was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was wearing nothing but a bath towel when a droplet of water slid down his back and his cock gave an interested twitch. He _definitely_ did not need this now, no matter how badly he craved something, anything to distract him from the image of blood on concrete. Charlie was his brother and that was all.   
  
Don glanced down at his feet, trying to will away thoughts and feelings he had no business having. He knew he should stand up, but his weary body protested the thought. Instead he said, "Um."  
  
"Then believe me," Charlie said quietly, ignoring his brother's 'um.' "Have you ever known me to lie about something this important?"  
  
"No, of course not," Don said quietly, his hands curled loosely in his lap. "I - I just think your faith in me is misplaced."  
  
His head drifted closer to Charlie's shoulder, and finally he couldn't fight the anguish back any more. Dropping his head, he curled into his brother, the tears sliding down his cheeks.  
  
Charlie immediately had both arms around his brother, holding him close. He hadn't seen Don cry since their mom died. He did now what he hadn't been able to do then.   
  
He held Don, pressed gentle kisses into his hair, murmured over and over again that he was there, that he loved Don, trusted him, that his faith was not misplaced. He didn't tell him to stop crying, knowing that Don needed the release.  
  
Don wrapped his arms around Charlie's waist, clinging to him. He felt the tension start to slide off him as he cried, Charlie's voice in his ear comforting. The tears starting to subside, Don lifted his head slowly, Charlie's kisses starting to land on his forehead, eyelids, and cheekbones. Finally, eyes closed, Don simply leaned forward, Charlie's next kiss landing square on his lips.  
  
Charlie was momentarily startled, but he kept this kiss as gentle and chaste as the ones before it. Still, he was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Don was only wearing a towel. He closed his eyes.   
  
They'd talked about this once. This bone deep attraction that Don had sworn they could never, ever act on. And now he was fragile and vulnerable and--God.  
  
Don's mouth rested on Charlie's and he tried to ignore the way his pulse suddenly jumped at even that simple contact. A need that he couldn't explain welled up inside him, and his hands traveled from Charlie's waist to his back without his consent. The war inside him about what was right, what was proper, versus what he needed raged.   
  
He pulled back slowly, incrementally, until he could look his brother in the eye. Searching his face, not knowing what to do next and not trusting himself to do it even if he did, he said the only thing that came to mind. "Charlie..."  
  
Charlie licked dry lips and reached out with one hand to brush Don's tears away. "Tell me what you need," he said softly.  
  
 _Oh God_ , he thought, leaning briefly into the touch. _This should not be happening._  
  
"There are lots of things I need," Don started. "I - I need distraction, absolution. I need to let go... Can you give me those things, Charlie?" His voice was plaintive and he hated it. He looked down at where their bodies were still pressed together, knowing that he couldn't fight this anymore.  
  
Charlie looked at Don for a long moment. He could give Don what he asked for, what he needed. And maybe he was just rationalizing doing what he'd always wanted to do. And maybe he was just taking advantage of Don. And maybe right now, right this second, Don did need him. "Yes," he said quietly, decision made. "But not here. Get dressed. I'm going to go leave a note and we'll go to your apartment. Can you drive?"  
  
Nodding, Don stood, not asking any questions, just following where Charlie led him. It was really the only thing he had at the moment, his reserves of strength almost totally gone. He dressed quickly, grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt from the pile that Charlie always made sure was in his room. If he'd been thinking, the fact that Charlie took care of him like that, was taking care of him now, would have made him smile. Instead, he followed Charlie out of the room and down the stairs almost mechanically.  
  
Charlie scrawled a quick note for Dad, saying only that Don had arrived exhausted and Charlie was going back to his apartment with him to make sure he could stay awake on the drive home and that he actually slept.   
  
The drive over was quiet, and Charlie very carefully didn't think about what he was about to do or how devastating the consequences might be.  
  
Don was thankful that his autopilot kicked in and he didn't have to really think about how to get back to his place. They walked in silence up to his apartment, Don ushering Charlie in before pulling the door closed behind him and turning the lock. He leaned against the door, looking at Charlie's knees. He was exhausted, wrung out physically and emotionally, but he knew trying to sleep like this would be pointless. And Charlie... Don shouldn't be letting him be used like this; he shouldn't have to shoulder his pain.   
  
"Charlie... I'm so tired. I..." he trailed off, holding his hand out to his brother.  
  
"I know," Charlie said softly, placing his hand in Don's. "Let me take care of you, okay?" He gently pulled Don after him into the bedroom, pausing at the foot of the bed. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be--Don needed him.  
  
He kissed Don gently, tenderly, his hands drifting to the hem of Don's shirt and tugging up.  
  
 _No_ , his mind replied. _It's not supposed to be this way. I'm supposed to be taking care of you._ But he followed anyway, walking into the bedroom. He should have stopped when he felt Charlie's lips on his, Charlie's hands at his waist, but he couldn't. And deep down, he didn't really want to.  
  
Sagging into Charlie's touch, Don opened to his gentle probing, giving Charlie control. Lifting his hands over his head, he let his shirt be stripped off, his pants undone, let himself be pushed gently onto the bed. His hands clung to Charlie, grounding him here, and he started to tug at Charlie's shirt, wanting to feel his skin, warm and alive.  
  
Charlie pulled his shirt off and let it fall to the floor. He was supposed to be the one in charge right now, but he'd give Don whatever it was he so much as hinted that he wanted. Anything to make his brother's pain go away.   
  
He spent some time just kissing Don, trying to get him to relax as his hands gently caressed and explored his brother's chest.  
  
Charlie's hands felt good on his skin and he could feel the tension fleeing wherever he touched. Don nibbled gently on Charlie's lip, feeling his breathing change, feeling him respond to him. The knowledge that despite it all, despite what Don saw as his own shortcomings, Charlie loved and cared about him finally filtered to his bruised and battered ego, but still, he needed more. Needed to shut out the voice in his head telling him he wasn't worth this. Snaking his hands around Charlie's back, Don pulled him close until Charlie had no other choice but to climb into his lap, straddling him and bringing their bodies flush together.  
  
He gasped and shivered involuntarily. This felt--God this felt good. And he shouldn't be thinking about that, because this wasn't _about_ him, what he wanted and needed.   
  
He kissed Don again, still gentle, still tender. Kisses meant to reassure, not inflame. He kissed the corners of Don's mouth, his jaw, his neck, his chest, trying to bring comfort and pleasure.  
  
It wasn't enough. Don didn't need gentle and tender, didn't need soft comfort and slow pleasure. He needed heat, needed to burn away this cloying sense of responsibility, needed to reduce the weight of the world on his shoulders to ash. Threading his fingers into Charlie's hair, Don claimed his mouth fiercely, devouring him. Charlie shifted in his lap, and Don moved one hand to his ass to still him, his strong fingers kneading the firm flesh through his jeans.   
  
Pulling back slightly, Don placed biting kisses along Charlie's throat and jaw, murmuring against his skin, "Want to fuck you, Charlie. Want to come deep inside you. Want... need you."  
  
"Whatever you need," Charlie said softly. He kissed Don again, passionately, fiercely. Don seemed to need heat more than tenderness, and Charlie would give him what he could. He nibbled on Don's bottom lip, nipped at his neck.  
  
Don groaned softly as Charlie's lips moved to the sensitive skin at his neck. He dropped his hands to Charlie's waist, pulling almost frantically at his belt-buckle, at last starting to lose himself in sensation.  
  
Pushing at Charlie's hips, he got him standing again so they could both strip fully.  
  
Charlie quickly divested himself of the rest of his clothes, his eyes greedily drinking in the sight of Don's body. He lay back against the pillows, quiet, waiting.  
  
Don let his jeans fall to the floor, watching as Charlie situated himself on the bed. Totally unguarded, open and trusting, his eyes followed him around the room as Don gathered lubricant and a condom from his dresser. Part of him knew that he shouldn't be doing this, but his hands itched to feel Charlie's skin under them again as need pounded into his brain, at last pushing all the haunting images away.   
  
He descended on the bed, blazing a trail down Charlie's throat to collarbone, his hands running through the hair on his chest. He slicked his fingers and cock quickly, ready to claim the body beneath him. Leaning down, he sucked Charlie's tongue into his mouth as he slid the first finger in.  
  
Charlie moaned and arched up, hands clutching at the smooth skin of Don's back. "Oh God! Don _please_!" Already he was begging for more, wanting, _needing_ to feel more of Don, needing to be the sole focus of Don's attention so that he wouldn't remember what had led them to this point.  
  
Don growled deep in his throat, hunger swamping him and dimming his awareness to only the responsive body under his hands. He sucked on Charlie's nipples, teasing them into hardness as he slid a second finger in, scissoring them quickly. He could feel Charlie opening to him, and he slid his fingers out before positioning himself between Charlie's knees. Not waiting for further assent than Charlie's hands on his biceps and the half-moaned pleas falling from his lips, Don thrust inside, hard. He knew he was being rough, and he just hoped that Charlie would forgive him later.  
  
Charlie cried out at the pleasure-pain, wincing and holding more tightly to Don's body, knowing he'd probably be leaving bruises. He kissed and nipped Don's skin frantically, overwhelmed by sensation.  
  
Between Charlie's mouth on his skin and his own mental and physical exhaustion, Don knew he wouldn't last. He wrapped a hand around Charlie's cock, stroking in time to his short, urgent thrusts. He could feel his orgasm coiling at the pit of his stomach and he simply let go, slamming into Charlie one last time and pulsing thickly inside him. Charlie's flesh was hot and heavy in his hand and he stroked him more firmly, wanting to give something back, to topple him over the edge into oblivion.  
  
It didn't take long for Charlie to follow Don over the edge. He cried out his brother's name and buried his face in Don's shoulder until the last of his shudders subsided.  
  
"God, Charlie," Don breathed, kissing him quickly before rolling to the side. He'd learned to keep baby wipes in the nightstand for himself, and after disposing of the condom, he handed a couple to Charlie, keeping one. In the back of his mind, he knew that tomorrow there would be all kinds of hell to pay for this, but he couldn't focus on that right now. Satiated, cleaned off, and exhausted, Don curled up next to Charlie, a hand laid casually over his stomach, his brother's warm body lulling him into sleep.  
  
Charlie waited for a little while before carefully slipping out of bed. He made sure the covers were tucked around Don, secure in the knowledge that Don had so exhausted himself that little was likely to wake him for at least a few hours.   
  
He retrieved his clothes and got dressed in the living room. Called a cab to take him to CalSci so he could shower before going home. Didn't let himself think about what had just happened.  
  
The gray light of early morning filtered through Don's windows when he next cracked his eyes open. It took him a moment to orient himself, and another moment to realize the bed next to him was cold and empty, the way it most definitely _hadn't_ been last night. He sat up, noticing Charlie's clothes were gone from the floor. Throwing the covers aside, he stuck his head out into the living room, hoping that Charlie had decided to camp out on his couch, and for a moment, he thought he almost saw a tangle of dark curls peaking over the edge. But no Charlie there. No Charlie in the kitchen or bathroom either. Digging the heel of his hands into his eyes, Don sat heavily on the edge of the bed.  
  
"Shit." Don slipped into a fresh change of clothes, grabbing his phone from his pocket and heading out the door.


End file.
